


Purple Delight

by trustmeallnight



Category: NU'EST
Genre: Alternate Universe - Sugar Daddy, M/M, Phone Sex, Rich Kim Jonghyun | JR, Sex Toys, with actual feelings and no contracts
Language: English
Status: Completed
Published: 2020-06-08
Updated: 2020-06-08
Packaged: 2021-03-03 23:40:50
Rating: Explicit
Warnings: No Archive Warnings Apply
Chapters: 1
Words: 7,725
Publisher: archiveofourown.org
Story URL: https://archiveofourown.org/works/24604069
Author URL: https://archiveofourown.org/users/trustmeallnight/pseuds/trustmeallnight
Summary: Kang Dongho on a blind date with Kim Jonghyun, a man stacked with bands and love.
Relationships: Kang Dongho | Baekho/Kim Jonghyun | JR
Comments: 11
Kudos: 41





	Purple Delight

**Author's Note:**

> well now that i know no one reads these things let me begin with the time i was born--
> 
> okay anyway now that you're here my queen hi my keyword for you is i love you<3 please reply
> 
> also i need to make a more gaudier sugar daddy au this is too soft not enough flexing
> 
> oop and it's jonghyun's birthday i actually made it in time :-)

**[Me]:** hyung are you sure this guy’s nice?

Dongho nibbles on his bottom lip as he stares at his bright phone screen. Each second Aaron doesn’t respond annoys him, mostly because he doesn’t have the time to wait for that stupid reply. He’s standing right outside the fanciest restaurant he’s ever been to in his life—scratch that, _ his past lives as well— _ surrounded by the most gorgeous, untouchable people he’s ever seen, and it  _ sucks _ .

Here he is, Kang Dongho, an aspiring music producer that still hasn’t achieved his dream yet slash gym trainer, nervously tapping his foot against smooth concrete (because of course even the ground has to look good as well as everything else) as he waits for a shitty reply from his shitty hyung on his shitty phone.

Dongho’s phone lights up with Aaron’s text, and he eagerly opens it.

**[Aron]:** don’t worry, Dongho ~

he’s a friend of a close friend of course he’s great! 

why would you doubt me?

**[Me]:** oh i don’t know maybe because the last guy you let me date was more interested in his job than me?

do you know how many times he kept telling me about his stupid role?

**[Aron]:** to be fair, marie antoinette is a great musical and minhyun is a great actor

didn’t you cry watching it?

**[Me]:** the point is

I want someone who’s into me and just me

not me and whatever else he does

It’s particularly suspicious when Aaron doesn’t respond to him for a good minute. The swish of passing women’s dresses roll past him continuously as he waits for a reply yet again. His date isn’t even here yet, so what the fuck.

**[Aron]:** Jonghyun does have his hobbies

but he’s also a passionate guy

give him a chance anyway, ok?

I promise he’s different

**[Me]:** it’s not convincing me when you take that long to reassure me

if he’s like the last one I’m ignoring you the rest of the year

**[Aron]:** relax 

I know I’m right

plus you could never forget me

anyway he just messaged me that he arrived so go!!

good luck~

“Oh shit,” Dongho whines as he clicks his phone off. 

Now he’s even more nervous than ever. He’s gotten the butterflies before, always before each date and each presentation for work, but now those butterflies have crawled way down into stomach and multiplied like fucking crazy. 

God, he look so stupid right now. He’s shifting from side to side in the rumpled suit he bought 5 years ago off of a discount, his hair newly dyed purple because  _ even the rookie producers have to look good in this music industry, _ and a fake Rolex on his wrist that Aaron thought was funny to gift to him for his birthday. He’s just standing outside this restaurant, with a name he can’t pronounce, looking poor as fuck.

_ Jonghyun’s here, my ass.  _ All that passes by him are women in expensive dresses made from quality fabric even he can appreciate from his lonesome corner and men wearing the spiciest of colognes that he knows he couldn’t ever get a spritz of, not even from a free sample.

“Kang Dongho?”

Dongho darts his head around when he hears his name. Finally, his date is here and he can stop looking so desperate in front of this fine establishment.

“Hey,” a voice chimes out right next to him, and Dongho flinches.

  
  


He almost falls back on his ass as the guy looks amusedly at him. It takes Dongho a minute to recollect himself, normally he doesn’t embarrass himself of rich people and that’s something he’s less used to than embarrassing himself in front of less rich people like Aaron and Mingi. Fuck, he’s so embarrassed.

He’s about to kick his own date’s ass when he actually takes a good look at the guy’s face. He readily decides against ruining it for everyone else’s viewing pleasure.

“Kim Jonghyun?”

_ Okay, hyung. I’ll admit you were right. _

Not only is Kim Jonghyun, _ his date, _ clad in what may be the sharpest looking suit he’s ever seen probably made from the threads of gods, he’s ridiculously good looking as well. 

Maybe Dongho just has desperate taste, and Jonghyun could be the average man out there, which— highly unlikely— but all Dongho can do is ogle the black shoes and gleaming YSL pin right on the lapel of the man’s coat, because there’s no realistic way Jonghyun looks and lives like that. If the creases of his suit pants weren’t so cheap and stiff, Dongho would absolutely stamp his foot down and whine at the cruelty of the world.

Not a single piece of Jonghyun’s appearance looks less luxurious than the next. The hair expertly pushed back on his head and revealing a strong profile, equally as impressive as the shiny steel rings sparsely spread out on his fingers. Dongho wonders if each gleaming piece of jewel decorating Jonghyun’s fingers, neck, and wrists are genuine stones. He’d like to cut his teeth on one of those bands, just so the pleasure of Jonghyun’s fingers in his mouth and cold, expensive jewelry can finally be his.

“That’s me,” Jonghyun says. With a polite smile, Dongho’s date holds out a firm hand. “Kang Dongho?”

He nervously looks at the outstretched hand and reaches out to weakly shake it. Jonghyun’s grip is strong, but there’s just something about shaking your date’s hand as if it’s a corporate meeting that has him coughing a laugh into his arm after.

“Yeah,” Dongho says, looking around. “Maybe we should head in?” He nods his head towards the fancy door, towering and golden.

Jonghyun nods and walks off, leaving Dongho to hurry up behind the man’s weirdly brisk pace and catching the tail end of the man’s coat. The scent of his cologne carries like a thicket of warm breeze, and Dongho readily inhales a sweet amount of grapefruit. It’s not the department store perfume his little cousins buy in bulk, it’s the forever lingering, memory etching, addictive kind of cologne that Dongho wishes could be riddled in his bed sheets for the next week.

“I like your watch,” Dongho blurts out as Jonghyun places a hand behind his waist to lead him into the restaurant. It’s been gleaming in his direction the whole time, and there’s no way he can let a beauty like that go unnoticed.

Jonghyun opens the door for Dongho, smiling gently as he walks in.

“You like it?” Jonghyun replies as he gains the hostess’s attention, “I can’t really pronounce the name, though.” He holds the watch up to Dongho’s face.

Up close, grapefruit smells stronger than when it hung behind Jonghyun’s trail. It makes Dongho dizzy, not the headache inducing kind of dizzy, but the kind where he wants to pull Jonghyun in for an inappropriately tight hug and stuff his nose into the man’s neck. His eyes flutter, but nevertheless he attempts to miserably pronounce the  _ (of course it is) _ foreign name.

_ “Ray-mond,” _ Dongho stutters as he squints at the tiny black lettering engraved in the middle of the goldtone steel, the seconds hand ticking and trying to gain his attention,  _ “Weil?” _

Jonghyun nods, pulling back the hand and rubbing at its leather band.

“Nice, right?” Jonghyun smiles, and Dongho returns it, but in his head, he really doubts how humble Jonghyun can be. Commoners like him haven’t even touched a piece like that in ages, and Jonghyun can’t even remember whichever Italian man handcrafted his damn watch.

The hostess ushers them to a table with a quick hand and walks off. 

“Come on, Dongho,” Jonghyun calls back sweetly, offering a hand back for Dongho to take. 

Dongho gingerly takes his hand and revels in how warm and soft it is. It’s barely smaller than his, and Dongho doesn’t want to brag to himself, but they fit perfectly. Walking to the table, Jonghyun pulls him along firmly, cold rings subtly rubbing against his own bare fingers. 

Dongho almost sits down in the closest chair, stops when Jonghyun grabs the back of the velvet seat and pulls it back.

“You first,” he says. Even the hostess covers her mouth at Jonghyun’s waving hand.

“Right,” Dongho mumbles, awfully aware of the patrons and their curiously dark eyes, and sits down. “Thank you.” He feels short fingertips brush against his shoulders as they pull back and the rough drag of leather against the side of his neck.

“It’s nothing, Dongho,” Jonghyun snickers as he trails to his own seat. The flourish of his coat hurls his scent into the air, and Dongho grips the table cover against that _ damn  _ grapefruit while red crawls up to his ears. “You’ve never been treated like this?”

He should feel the dig at his pride at Jonghyun’s question. It should be a subtle remark, toeing the line of offensive frankly, and Dongho should retort with some of the more wiser remarks he’s heard from Mingi before.

“I… I haven’t,” Dongho says, eyes drawn to the leather wrapped menu. Cursive lettering adorns the front, and when Dongho opens it carefully, Dongho blinks. 

Hands come into his vision and gently closes the menu. 

“Then,” Jonghyun says as he instead takes Dongho’s hand and strokes the back of it, as if it was a small, priceless heirloom, “let me treat you tonight.”

“Jonghyun—“

“I want to,” he interrupts quickly. Raising the hand wrapped in his ring clad fingers, Jonghyun presses a chaste kiss to Dongho’s hand. 

He could’ve missed it, missed the soft brush of lips against his skin from how feathery light his touch was, but all of his attention had been surely stolen. 

“I mean,” Dongho laughs, although he feels as nervous as much as his heart pumps viciously from Jonghyun’s words, “I can at least order for myself.”

Jonghyun smiles, patting Dongho’s hand and placing it back on the table, and says, “Let me take care of you. Just once.”

He doesn’t understand what Jonghyun means exactly as he folds his hands into himself. There’s a thousand ways Dongho could take it, a million more to figure out what happens after, and who knew it could ever be this complicated when all he could ever want was to stare into Jonghyun’s darkening eyes.

He nods. It satisfies the other man, so much so he happily waves a nearby waiter over.

A part of Dongho is anxious, watching Jonghyun fire off dishes he’s never even dreamt of eating, not when moderately priced beef was his biggest luxury of the month. It makes him think of the world beyond him, the separate life that stretches into Jonghyun’s field and cradles the other man comfortably every single second. In that sense, he also anticipates every move Jonghyun makes. The way his knuckles curl to play with the soft hem of his rich brown coat, the way small gold hoops sit like a painting in his ears, Jonghyun is just oddly entrancing even as he speaks.

When the waiter scampers off with a full notepad, Jonghyun turns back with smugness set in his shoulders. He rolls up the sleeves of his turtleneck, the creases set just right above the tan skin of his forearm, and leans forward to place his hand over Dongho’s.

It’s a heavy warmth over his, but Dongho’s afraid to flip his hand over. Beads of sweat already crawl down the back of his neck, staining into his collar, and he’s afraid if he were to meet Jonghyun’s palms, the other man would simply laugh at his moist skin.

Instead, he strokes at the tiny patch of skin right above his thumb, hopes that it conveys his best to Jonghyun and to how comfortable he is facing Jonghyun’s lax smile.

“So,” Dongho says as he looks around at all of the twinkling lights hidden away behind ivy leaves, “what do you do?”

Jonghyun smiles. He leans his other hand up onto the table and fiddles with his watch. Despite the leather band twisting left and right on his wrist, Jonghyun never disturbs their joined hands.

“Can’t tell you how many times I’ve had to answer this question, honestly,” Jonghyun says as he chuckles. 

Dongho slightly frowns. He rubs at his own naked wrist, the one not sporting the fake watch, mirroring Jonghyun in a pathetic attempt, as he looks away to the open window. The chatter of the restaurant doesn’t help in masking his slight cough as he suddenly feels like an intruder.

“Well, isn’t it a normal question to ask someone on a first date,” he mumbles. 

A tap on the table brings his attention back to Jonghyun. He’s still smiling but now both of his hands are folded on the table, his attention directed to Dongho’s shy eyes. 

“That’s true.” Jonghyun taps his fingers together before clearing his throat. “I’m a fund manager. Do you know SC Finances?”

Dongho’s eyebrows raise, possibly up to the dark ceiling if they could reach that far off his damn face. Jonghyun nervously laughs as he watches Dongho’s mouth contort into a strange oval.

“I’m guessing you do. I’m a senior fund manager at the main office,” Jonghyun says. “I actually came here right after I got off.”

And Dongho arrived an hour early because he got tired of watching television. Dongho subtly winces at how sad it seems.

“Stressful night, then?”

“No,” Jonghyun quickly says, “It actually got a lot better. Being here.”

“Oh? Never been on a date before?” 

Another stupid question. Of course Jonghyun’s been on a date before. Jonghyun cracks another smile, and Dongho breathes easy as he doesn’t seem entirely over with his attitude.

“I have. Just not with someone so cute,” Jonghyun says as he cocks his head. “You’re beautiful.”

“What?” Dongho’s ears can hardly believe it, and his head certainly almost blanks. “No, I—”

“Sir.”

The waiter comes by with two wine glasses. A bottle of red wine is set softly onto the table cover, and the waiter leaves as quickly as he interrupted them.

Jonghyun watches the waiter leave, sweetly smiles, and asks, “Wine?”

Dongho nods, still unable to speak as long as his mouth remains hidden by his shaking hand. Jonghyun pops the cork with the silver corkscrew, just as decadent as the restaurant around them, and pours the rich red wine into the glasses.

“So,” Jonghyun says as he sets down the bottle with a soft clunk, “what do  _ you _ do?”

Jonghyun tips up his glass, the crystalline edge waiting for Dongho’s. He takes the gesture, gathers himself by pushing down the bubbling feelings, and picks up the thin stem. With the touching of their glasses, Jonghyun lightly sloshes the wine around before sipping, eyes hooded and staring at Dongho.

The wine sits flat in Dongho’s own glass. Decades of oak barrels and ripening, sun-kissed grapes are cast off to the side as he replies, “I’m a physical trainer, helping people at the gym. Losing weight, or whatever. You pretty much know how it works.”

He wants to change the subject, talk more about just how interesting he finds Jonghyun and his life, but the other man leans in on elbows.

“There’s more to that,” Jonghyun says, leaning on his palm, “isn’t there? You look much more interesting than that.”

The lavender hair, it gives him away too much. The dried ends of his hair are spun around his fingers as he smiles sheepishly at a waiting Jonghyun.

“I guess there’s a reason for this.”

Jonghyun makes a noise, answers  _ obviously  _ with just a short exhale. It's already been countless times that Jonghyun’s made him feel small. Tiny, cowering under this man’s influence.

He says, “I’d actually prefer to make music. They made me dye this—“ he points at the bright, freshly colored purple, “—when I finally became an apprentice composer at Pledis.”

He nearly jumps back when Jonghyun claps and laughs loudly. The patrons behind him spare glances behind them, but Jonghyun just leans forward and reaches for a strand of lilac.

“Composer, huh?” Jonghyun rubs the hair between two fingers, possibly marveling at how bright it is, such a contrast to his own black hair. “I’m guessing you don’t get paid much if you agreed to this.”

Dongho snorts, and Jonghyun lets go of the purple hair. He runs a hand through his light hair, feels how dry it is and lightly tugs at tangled knots.

“That’s why I work at the gym.”

Jonghyun looks at him, eyes shifting up and down from his face, his hair, to the offset tie pressed against a starched shirt.

“You should be focusing on your goals, Dongho,” Jonghyun finally says after raking his gaze through each centimeter of his appearance. “Appreciated more.”

“Yeah? By who?” Dongho replies.

“Me,” Jonghyun states, treats it as a simple fact and not a skip in Dongho’s heartbeat that has him genuinely hoping for once.

Throughout their dinner, Jonghyun makes normal conversation, speaking so charmingly and always so interested in his answers that it’s hard to not like him. As much as Dongho knows Jonghyun’s birthplace, his hobbies, the colleagues he both hates and admires, Jonghyun now knows the dream he cultivated since he was a teenager and, more embarrassingly, the limits of his love life since a year ago.

“I would never treat you like that,” Jonghyun says as he stabs into a piece of his tender steak, “just so you know.”

Dongho opens his mouth, closing his eyes as he accepts the meat hanging deliciously on Jonghyun’s fork, almost wanting to cry at just how good it is. When he opens his eyes, Jonghyun’s ears, bare and still beautifully decorated with gold hoops, are pinker than when they came in.

“I know,” Dongho says as he grins. 

When their waiter comes by with the enclosed bill, Jonghyun slips back the book with a card pressed in its corners.

“Jonghyun,” Dongho sighs, the hand on his faux leather wallet letting go and drooping.

“I said I would treat you,” Jonghyun says. Within the corner of Dongho’s eyes, a row of cards, some midnight black, some with its recognizable twinkling diamond engraved in the corners, closes against Jonghyun’s quick fingers.

“Then, just for tonight.” 

He gets up from his seat and looks back as Jonghyun slips on his coat. Jonghyun catches up, raises an eyebrow as he slips his fingers between Dongho’s. Dongho isn’t so nervous now, and he realizes just how much he was missing by just holding Jonghyun’s hand. His fingers, still shorter than ever, are still big enough to meet Dongho’s perfectly.

“Nope,” Jonghyun says as they head outside into the freezing cold night. “For a long time, actually.”

In a dark, secluded spot besides the restaurant where they’re hidden by a concrete wall, Jonghyun pulls Dongho into his arms. The wool coat enclosing Jonghyun’s broad shoulders feels so good against Dongho’s lacking jacket, and he readily snuggles further into the other man’s embrace.

And he agrees with Jonghyun, shows his agreement by nosing his way into his neck and pressing a long, dry kiss into tan skin.

“Then take care of me,” Dongho says against the overwhelming warmth of Jonghyun’s hold.

* * *

At home, the food in his stomach settling comfortably and his mouth curled up into a smile, Dongho undressed for the night.

As he lays the jacket neatly on his bed, he notices a small lump in the left pocket. It’s barely noticeable, and if Dongho didn’t bother to neatly smooth down the fabric, it probably would’ve been lost to the corners of his dirty laundry pile. Instead, it makes the smallest of indents in the pocket and beckons him to stuff a hand down. He fishes it out, parts his mouth when, in his enclosed palm, is a gold pin with intertwined letters  _ YSL _ .

Previously clipped onto Jonghyun’s heavy coat, Dongho wonders how it was neatly tucked into his own shabby jacket. The metal twinkles under the fluorescent light bulb, and he can already see the smudges of his fingertips that handled it so hazardously. 

Clearly, if Dongho isn’t mistaken or easily the dumbest guy on the planet, Jonghyun must have planted it in his pocket when they hugged in front of the restaurant. The intoxicating smell of cologne and aftershave must have disorientated him, Dongho didn’t even remember a single finger slipping into his clothes.

Either way, the pin is in his hand, and it shines like a piece of heaven shot down to his worn down apartment. He hesitates as he unfurls his fingers even more. 

Dongho plucks the accessory out with nimble fingers, placing it gently on a nightstand. He picks up his, still disgustingly horrible, jacket and throws it on himself once again. WIth a flourish, he picks up the pin and clips it on the lapel of his suit, taking extra care as he clasps the back closed and straightens it out. 

“Wow,” he murmurs as he faces the mirror. 

The gold pin is a tiny detail from the rest of his body, but it’s all Dongho can focus on as it catches the light at every angle he turns. The elegant, intertwined YSL letters transform his thrifted outfit into a genuine piece, making him look that much more out of place in his tiny room. 

He could even, might he dare say, fit in as one of  _ them _ . Or at least, enough to be by Jonghyun’s side. A pretty little thing that’s a treasure in everyone’s eyes.

Kim Jonghyun’s beautiful companion.

**[Me]:** So when can I return your pin

**[SC Kim Jonghyun]:** depends

where can I pick you up tomorrow at 7

In the dark of his room, the bright screen of his phone lights up as he sends the address of the gym, even makes a note to wear the tightest tank he owns. 

When Jonghyun eventually reads it, he clicks his phone off. His usual nighttime routine, usually one where he’s just exhausted after work and sluggishly showering before dropping into bed, feels much shorter. The meal, the conversation, the absolutely breathtaking pin, and  _ Kim Jonghyun, _ it’s more exciting than the last year of his life.

* * *

After their first date just a few weeks ago, Dongho’s never felt more over the moon than the time that followed. Once Jonghyun had chastely hugged Dongho in the back alley, the lack of streetlights hiding his rosy cheeks, and he had acted a fool over a small gold pin, Jonghyun took him out so often it was expected.

The night after the restaurant, at which the pictures of the two smiling under the bright sign had Aaron smug for hours, Jonghyun picked him up in a Bentley, a sleek black import that purred soft under the man’s hands and held his full leather briefcase on the side, and they went for a walk down the crowded streets near SC Finances’ offices.

Dongho has bought some ice cream shaped as a bear, and he offered Jonghyun two of its two strawberry ears. With the pink spoon stuck in the man’s mouth and strawberry ice cream dotting the corner of his mouth, Dongho laughed at Jonghyun’s adorable mannerisms. Quite unlike the fund manager that traded complex assets and dealt with more money than was comprehensible to Dongho, the Jonghyun who spoon fed Dongho a tiny gummy worm was a person he enjoyed talking to.

Although, the Jonghyun who dropped his drink on the concrete floor was equally as endearing as the Jonghyun who offered him a Ferragamo leather belt as soon as Dongho’s pants slipped the slightest inch. All of Jonghyun was enjoyable, in fact.

That next date turned into even more dates and even more places, the next spot leaving Dongho dizzy with excitement and affection as Jonghyun revealed his little quirks, his youthful sides. It wasn’t hard to fall for Kim Jonghyun, successful businessman and comfortably warm man who held Dongho tight to his chest after every date.

It was only three months in when Jonghyun flew off to America to secure the company’s next big client. 

“I’ll be gone a whole week, Dongho,” Jonghyun said as he sulked against the leather seats of his car. 

They were parked right outside of Dongho’s apartment, an embarrassing thing that couldn’t even begin to compare the car he was dropped off in. Jonghyun said he never minded, even bought Dongho some silk curtains that would both block the harsh sunlight against his eyes every morning and decorate the cracking windows.

“I’ll call, baby,” Dongho replied as he held Jonghyun’s hand over the gear shift, “and I’ll wait for you.”

Jonghyun looked in Dongho’s eyes with wide, almost twinkling eyes, looking so much like a little puppy Dongho couldn’t help but coo and press a kiss to the man’s cheek.

“You better,” Jonghyun pouted as the car door was opened.

Before Dongho could leave, his wrist was tugged down and a small box was dropped in his palm. 

“Make sure you think about me, okay? I still have more on the way,” Jonghyun said as he pressed his final kiss onto Dongho’s fingers. Four kisses for four curled knuckles around the navy box.

Before Dongho could throw back the suspiciously light box into the leather interior, he was pushed outside, Jonghyun leaning over to slam the car door closed and driving off with a loud rumble through the quiet street.

When he opened the tiny box under the yellow light of his living room, silver chains dangled as his fingers held up two necklaces. A simple plated chain necklace was the first, 16 inches of durable jewelry shining brighter than his television playing in the background. The other necklace, gold clasp adorning a gold chain, dropped into a small pendant, an equally as gold tiger complete with all the fine details down to its last whisker.

Dongho had cursed as he held the tiger up to his collarbone, admiring the way it rested so beautifully against his inked skin.

Kim Jonghyun, successful businessman and an even better person, was a force that slipped so smoothly into his life that it was impossible to not feel appreciated, like the most important trophy crowned on Jonghyun’s shelf.

* * *

Dongho’s never admitted it before, mainly because he’s never felt it, but now he just has to admit it: he’s lonely.

And it sucks because he’s never had to deal with loneliness. He either had his friends, his family back home, or his work. His love life never bothered him when he didn’t have anyone because Mingi was always up for a good cuddle session and his brother knew most, if not all, of his secrets. 

So, as Dongho sits on his brand new couch in the middle of the night, wide awake because his foolish self decided to take a nap earlier that day, he’s lonely and he’s missing Kim Jonghyun.

He misses seeing the man’s face bathed in bright yellow sunlight buried in a silk navy pillow as they wake up, he misses the feeling of Jonghyun’s barely there stubble against his cheek as he kisses Dongho goodbye before going off to work, he misses the random visits to Dongho’s gym when Jonghyun would buy lunch from the place way downtown.

The gold necklace resting against his neck, the pendant that he found out was engraved with Jonghyun’s initials when he eventually turned it over, made it worse. He would constantly play with it, fingertips rolling over the  _ KJ _ at every change he got.

The chime of his phone sets his rambling, lonely mind off. It’s honestly impressive ( _ sad, Dongho, sad _ ) how much he’s thinking about just one man. Yet he feels giddy when the text is from said man.

**[Jonghyunie]:** hey baby

you awake?

Dongho flops down on his couch as his fingers rapidly dance across the keyboard at a speed he’s never had before.

**[Me]:** yeah

are you free?

**[Jonghyunie]:** yes

in the hotel room

just took a shower

been busy today

Dongho purses his lips as he reads Jonghyun’s message. He’s been lazing around all day on his day off, and here Kim Jonghyun is, busy being the best fund manager South Korea’s ever seen. There’s not much more a struggling gym trainer can do over a guy who owns his own office eight floors above the ground, but it still needles at him.

He composes several texts before he sends a decent reply.

**[Me]:** I’m glad you worked hard

**[Jonghyunie]:** I work even harder to buy gifts for you :)

miss seeing your face when you get them

Dongho hand clamps down over his mouth. Of course,  _ of course, _ Jonghyun is not only handsome, smart, ambitious, successful, kind, caring, hot, but he’s also cheesy as hell. It’s dangerous for his heart, the one that’s pounding so heavily in his chest right now. He quickly types back, thumbs almost jamming onto the screen as he furiously tries to express his feelings.

**[Me]:** I miss you

I’m lonely here without you

**[Jonghyunie]:** I miss you too baby

so much

Dongho isn’t sure if it’s just him and his despairing loneliness this past week or if it’s genuinely Jonghyun’s intention, but those words seem loaded, and a little bit too much. He nibbles at his lip, feels them turn warmer as he takes in Jonghyun’s message.

It’s not like Dongho’s against it. It feels good that Jonghyun also wants him. Not nearly as much as he wants Jonghyun’s presence right next to him, or on top of him, but it’s enough for his thighs to start rubbing against each other.

**[Me]:** how much

**[Jonghyunie]:** a lot

Dongho doesn’t even manage to stifle the gasp he lets out as Jonghyun sends him a picture. Jonghyun in sweatpants, a shock in itself when the man who wore pressed suits and silver jewelry dresses down, and the bulge peeking out from behind the palm covering it.

It has him nibbling at his thumbnail, looking on with wide eyes at the raised fabric of cheap sweats and a smooth hand caressing it.

His fingers hover above the screen. There’s no plausible reply to give to Jonghyun, ones that don’t involve him cursing and ogling and—

The next photo is one where the right waistband of Jonghyun’s sweats are pulled down. His thumb hooks into the pants, dragging the fabric down until a peek of the base of Jonghyun’s cock can be seen. His skin is dark, darker than the rest of his body, but it can’t compare to the trimmed patch of black hair resting above his cock. Beyond the tiny hint of an absolute wet dream, Jonghyun’s thighs, big and flawless, rest lazily on the bed as the television lights up on the opposing wall.

Jonghyun picks up on the second ring after Dongho hurriedly calls him. Instead of the teasing sight of Jonghyun’s half hard cock, it’s his bare face that shows up on the screen.

“Dongho,” Jonghyun says. He smiles brightly at the sight of Dongho’s red cheeks.

“Yah,” he whines, “what are you trying to do?”

Jonghyun hums low as he shifts on the bed. He sets the camera down, and now Dongho can see both of his hands move down.

“I said I miss you, and you miss me, so,” Jonghyun says as he parts his mouth when a particular move is made, leaves Dongho desperately wondering and anticipating, “we should resolve it.”

“And?”

“And,” Jonghyun draws out, “and you should check the box I gave you.”

The box he refers to is an all black square, flat yet surprisingly heavy once the delivery man had handed it to Dongho. It sits on the coffee table, unmarked and unopened. It was a couple of days old, but Jonghyun told him to not touch it until he was away. The other man had laughed and kissed him when he secretly tried to open it, saying, “It’ll be better when I’m away, I promise.” 

Now, when Jonghyun’s another screen away, he’s quick to grab at it.

“What, your gift?” Dongho moves up to his elbows to reach it. The ribbon on top, a light pink and tied into a small bow, is unraveled. Once he lifts the top, his eyes could nearly lose sight at the gifts he’s presented.

“Like it?”

“You—“ Dongho chokes as he reaches a hand into the box, pulling out a purple colored dildo.

In his hands, the dildo is easily surrounded by his fingers. The base is smooth, erased of any veins, reminding Dongho of how inexplicably fake it is even if he were to close his eyes and  _ not _ manage to inhale the scent of plastic.

“Jonghyun-ah, what the fuck is this,” Dongho groans as he stumbles back onto the couch, the dildo in his grip and flopping onto his chest. 

He turns to the screen, and Jonghyun’s still there, eyes crinkled and arching as he watches Dongho poke at the plastic head.

“A gift,” he replies.

Dongho scoffs.

“And you expect me to give you a show for free?”

Jonghyun grins as he settles into the pillows behind him, runs a hand through his hair as he’s swallowed up into the comforter.

“Consider it thanks for the earrings I bought you.”

Dongho automatically reaches up to rub at the steel hoops adorning the shell of his ear. Despite his fingers touching them, admiring them, they’re still cool against his touch.

“I thought they were a gift,” Dongho pouts even as he begins to ruck up his shirt.

Jonghyun narrows his eyes as he trails a hand down towards the front of his sweats. Using the palm of his hand, he strokes his hardening cock lightly, using more of his attention to focus on the muscled ridges of Dongho’s stomach.

“And they are,” Jonghyun says, licking his dry bottom lip, “you’re just thanking me, baby.”

Once the front of his shirt is pulled up to rest at his collarbones, he strokes gentle fingers tips over his stomach. The muscles underneath arch and contract under his own butterfly touches, back reaching up to meet himself.

“Jonghyun,” he softly moans as his fingers brush past hard nipples. They crawl past his tummy, down a trail of sparse hair, and lands on the elastic waistband of his tight briefs.

Another gift from Jonghyun, an unbelievably comfortable pair of briefs that hug at every spare inch of flesh. The geometric gold pattern on the band occasionally peeks out of his pants, always a nice reminder as to who bought them, who praised them as they were slowly pulled up a curvy body.

Sliding down Fendi briefs, light grey and lined with the gold waistband that Jonghyun yanked against his skin when he first tried it out, he notices the wet patch in front of the fabric. With his body on display, the clear sight of his cockhead oozing precome that trails down in slow rivulets has him throwing the briefs down onto the floor and slightly coughing.

“Baby, it’s okay,” Jonghyun says, aware of the flush on Dongho’s cheeks and the hands slightly cupping his cock, “you’re gorgeous when you’re aching for me.”

Jonghyun pulls his own sweats down just as Dongho did, although he yanks it straight down to his ankles and, unlike the sight of underwear being pushed down thick thighs, a hard cock bobs up as soon as Jonghyun lies back down.

“See?” Using his thumb, Jonghyun pushes down the base of his cock. Dongho could even go cross eyed with the way it hovers even closer to the screen, intimidating and still large even through his phone. 

The way Jonghyun shows off his cock to the camera reminds Dongho of when he would force his cock towards Dongho’s parted lips, murmuring praise and so many deals along the lines of “c’mon baby, I’ll buy you a nice meal if you suck me.” The way veins run through in jagged paths across his dark skin, so defined even through a tiny phone, he could almost dredge up the traces of Jonghyun’s taste through his messy mind.

When Jonghyun starts stroking himself with dry fingers, spreading around the liquid pouring out from his own cock, making his skin so shiny under the ceiling light, Dongho swallows and grabs at the lube in the box. 

Spreading his thighs to the screen, baring every inch of skin possible to the camera, the impossibly loud click of the bottle turns Jonghyun’s eyes from his own cock to the pretty skin of Dongho’s hole clenching against air.

“Oh, baby,” Jonghyun groans as he squeezes the base of his cock, “gonna finger yourself for me?”

“Only you, Jonghyun-ah.”

With the first push past his entrance, he scrunches his eyes and whimpers from the tiny stretch. The feel of his own hole attempting to close tightly around his finger encourages him to fuck in more, ignoring the first and instead pushing two fingers in instead.

“Need more?” Jonghyun asks as the bridge of Dongho’s nose pushes up from the burn. His own hand strokes at his cockhead, clear and sticky from the precome drooling down his skin.

Dongho nods as he slowly fucks two fingers into himself. The unoccupied hand fiddles with his nipples, flicking them softly with a thumbnail and rolling them between two fingers when his fingers spread his hole apart.

“Need you instead,” he says. 

Jonghyun’s fingers, short but still thick, probably thick enough to make him feel the ache from just a couple of fingers, are thousands of miles away, and while it feels like such a shame, watching Jonghyun jerk himself off to Dongho feels even better. 

When Jonghyun pours droplets of lube onto his cock, and they roll down the sides of the base, Dongho’s tongue rubs over his lips, pathetically attempting to stroke the sides of hot veins with his own touch. His fingers screw themselves up to the last knuckles, and his dry hand pinches his nipple until it turns puffy as Jonghyun starts to finally stroke himself properly. 

When the drool inducing sight of Jonghyun’s skin pulling down with every stroke of his fingers, Dongho removes the probing fingers and releases his bitten lips. The purple dildo lying on the glass table is picked up carefully, cold silicone entirely different than anyone he’s ever touched.

Despite sticky fingers almost dropping the dildo onto the floor, he manages to get the blunt head pressing against his hole. 

“Push it in, baby” Jonghyun says as he strokes his cock. His whole length is covered in lube, and it looks so fucking good from Dongho’s view, the way his cock peeks out of fingers with every stroke.

He listens to Jonghyun, wantonly spreading his legs even more as the silicone head enters him, past his tight rim, past the first few inches, and is completely enveloped in his clenching ass. His chest, now almost sipping wet from excess lube and sweat, feels stuck in place, the air constricting just below his throat as the dildo is pushed right up to its limits against him.

“ _ Fuck _ , Dongho,” Jonghyun groans out, the man’s cry rushing into Dongho’s body like the heaviest drug and making his thighs spread wider for the screen. 

The way Jonghyun calls out his name, it’s as if he’s dying from what Dongho’s giving him. It’s nothing more than a filthy video call in the middle of the night, the sole purpose just to ease whatever tensions Jonghyun had left to bleed out. And yet, Dongho feels so powerful. He’s the one with the dildo buried deep in his ass, the one with a sticky chest from excess lube, the one with obscenely spread thighs that beckon men to ruin him, yet he’s so drunk on his own allure it excites him. 

“Jonghyun, Jonghyun-ah, it’s good, it feels so good,” Dongho whines back. 

Jonghyun’s breathing gets louder in the room. Through hooded eyes, Dongho can see that the man’s fist is moving faster, the slick sounds of his hand on his cock making Dongho’s mouth part from how addicting it is, like the best song he’s ever made. Jonghyun’s stomach flexes irregularly, as if he tries to hold himself back from just chasing quick, dirty release through Dongho’s moans alone.

“Jonghyunie,” Dongho draws out teasingly, a low whimper tacked onto the end as the dildo is pushed back to the hilt inside of him, “I wish this was you.” He licks his lips, wetting them so much that it seems like lip gloss, and now he just seems that much more provocative,  _ sexier _ . “I wish this was your thick cock fucking me wide open.”

Dongho clenches his eyes as he snaps his wrist at a constant, smooth pace. With each push into his hole, his hips meet downwards to the hard base of the fake cock, and with each pull bringing the purple plastic out and leaving him empty, he chases the feeling with widening thighs.

Jonghyun curses over and over, a string of words angrily hissed out of his teeth as his fist repeatedly curls around his sensitive cockhead, eyes peeled to the repetitive motions of Dongho’s tightly clenched hands. From Dongho’s view, the phone placed neatly besides his feet, the muscles in the thick of Jonghyun’s thighs bunch up and tremble.

“I just—  _ ugh— _ just wanna fuck you already,” Jonghyun harshly says as he brings his other hand down to wrap around the base of his cock. With two hands surrounding his girth, he twists and shoves his hips up into tight grips. “Can’t wait to feel that tight hole around me.”

“M-me too.” 

The silicone brushes up against his silicone, a bump against him when his spine arches just a bit too much, and the contact has Dongho wailing into the hot room and curling his toes. His wrist falters for just a second, but the absolutely addicting feeling of tiny sparks running under his sweaty skin forces his hand to keep going, keep fucking himself with the poorest replica of a fat cock he wishes could spear through him instead.

He brings a finger up to between his teeth, biting down hard on his skin to the point where teeth marks must bruise the surface, but clamping down on it keeps him from primally shoving the dildo into his ass at dangerous speeds. The pain keeps his head in place, allows him to tearily focus on the way Jonghyun’s hands jerk around his big cock, gape at how full and tight Jonghyun’s balls look, feel every stroke of hard silicone against his inner walls.

“I’m— I’m gonna—“ Dongho clamps his mouth shut as a wave of toe curling bliss rides down his body, just as his wrist bends and his prostate is hit more fiercely. The pace he goes at continues with every pleasurable push, the ache in his wrist and fingers utterly ignored as he only focuses on the stretch of his hole around the dildo.

His neck bends up to the ceiling, his red sweaty skin baring itself to the camera as the orgasm previously simmering underneath his skin crawls up into his tightening balls.

“Dongho, Dongho,” Jonghyun repeats as if he’s praying, worshipping his god, instead of furiously fucking into his own fist at the sight of another man shoving a toy into his hole, “baby,  _ fuck _ , you’re so beautiful, so pretty.”

Dongho moans, a long, stretched thing that probably floats into connected rooms as he reaches a hand up to curl a loose fist around his cock.

The feel of a rough palm on his sensitive, red skin is enough to have him abruptly shouting and his muscles to freeze rigid as he finally rips through his orgasm. Despite the arches of hot come landing straight on his flexing stomach, his wrist still snaps the dildo into his ass, the drag against his walls sending shivers down his spine and forcing dribbles of come to continue oozing out of his cock.

“Jonghyun,” he whispers as his movements slow and eventually halt, his chest the only thing moving harshly as it heaves up and down, “Kim Jonghyun.”

Jonghyun’s finally loud for once, groans ripping out through the rough quality of the call and fulfilling a deep satiation in his chest. Just as he messily came all over his stomach, spurts of come pool up in the small curve of Jonghyun’s flat stomach. His sweaty chest, golden and shining from his own salty moisture, something Dongho wants to line his tongue with for hours or perhaps days, moves up and down rapidly, as if Jonghyun wasted a lifetime’s worth of oxygen just to come for Dongho.

“Shit,” Jonghyun brokenly curses.

Gingerly pulling the dildo out, the plastic now making him twitch with each accidental drag against his sore prostate, he throws it back in the empty box. His sticky hole attempts to close around itself, but the fucking he gave himself was too rough, too hard, and as fingers trace his now red rim, he winces as his skin gapes.

“That’s hot,” Jonghyun says softly as his lazy eyes watch Dongho feel himself. Layers of tissue rest on his stomach, an attempt to wipe up the thick mess, but Jonghyun’s hands only rest on the pillows and watch his screen.

“This is your fault,” Dongho whines back. His thighs collapse against the couch. He’s still ever grateful for the microfiber couch decorating his apartment, the soft threads cradling his heavy body and making him drift off easily

“But it was good, wasn’t it?”

The low sound of the television on Jonghyun’s side turns mute, and the bright lights reflecting back on Dongho’s face become dark. Jonghyun’s body escapes into the darkness, his face with its hooded, drooping eyes the only thing that lights up.

“Yeah,” Dongho murmurs. His own lights are burning against his eyes, but there’s no energy left in his legs to remove anywhere. “Always good.”

“I’m gonna go now, baby,” Jonghyun coos as Dongho’s neck lulls back against the armrest, “I’ll see you soon, pretty.”

Dongho quietly grunts. He turns onto his side, the cum on his stomach sliding down onto the couch, but his fingers only lazily wipe it off his skin.

“Miss you.”

Before he falls off to sleep, head resting on Jonghyun’s couch, mouth murmuring Jonghyun’s name, the man he thinks of day and night clicks off the call, smiling softly at his sleeping form.

  
  


**Author's Note:**

> twt @ ifwithoutlove
> 
> whre


End file.
